


The Urgency of Now

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Backstory, David Rossi Whump, Headaches & Migraines, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Abuse, Sick Aaron Hotchner, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29289564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: “Look, he's seems good.  Great, even.  He's obviously brilliant, intuitive, hard-working...must be some kind of super genius to be so young and already be where he is.  I'm just saying, on paper...he's too perfect, what makes him human?”“That's fair,” Dave said, sauntering into the room ten minutes late for the meeting and clearly not at all concerned with it.  “That's why I'm flying to Seattle tonight to spend a few days with him.  His department just got an interesting case, I'd like to see him work. My flight leaves in two hours.”“But you're already convinced he's the one,” Max pointed out, narrowing his eyes just a little at Dave.“I have no doubt,” Dave replied, paying no notice to Max's suspicions.“Then why fly across the country?”“Because you're not,” Dave shrugged and Max nodded.  He could appreciate that.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	The Urgency of Now

Oregon's coastline was ominous, craggy, wild. The way the jagged cliffs with their enormous centurion pine trees created death drops into frothy gray whirlpools, the way the beach was eaten every winter by king tides that swept their way through the tiny coastal towns, the briny smell of dead seagulls and crabs and bull kelp rotting on the shore. It all drove Aaron wild. He jogged through the soft hills and valleys of sand, kicking razor clam shells out of the way and hopping around whole bleached sand dollars, not wanting to crush them before a child could excitedly find them, like a treasure to behold. Finding whole sand dollars wasn't easy, except early in the morning, before the beach combers came out to start their picking. He'd already slipped plenty of them into his pockets, eager to take them back for Haley. They'd been in Oceanside for four days now on vacation and would be heading home later that day. He knew it was probably the last vacation he'd get for a very long time. His mind was racing, knowing that if the next few days went well, he'd be bidding farewell to the West Coast and heading back home to Virginia, where Haley longed to be, to start a new chapter of their life. He wasn't ready to say goodbye to the northwest, wasn't ready to be back home, but the possibility of joining the BAU, the elite, what he'd been working so hard for was more powerful than his love for this area of the world. 

“His psych eval was spotless. What's he hiding?” Max asked, leaning forward, eyeing Jason suspiciously. Jason barely seemed to notice, he was lost in thought, somewhere else entirely.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, only mildly interested in Max's ramblings. He knew how Max got, how protective he was of their little team – he'd vetoed every attempt at bringing in a fourth person, but Rossi had been showing signs that he might not be sticking around, and Max was wearing thin. If the BAU was going to survive, they'd need to start opening up their doors again. 

“You're kidding right?”

“No, Max, enlighten me.” Now Jason looked at him, leveled his gaze and stared directly at his friend. Max shrunk, just a little. He didn’t like it when Jason looked at him that way.

“Look, he's seems good. Great, even. He's obviously brilliant, intuitive, hard-working...must be some kind of super genius to be so young and already be where he is. I'm just saying, on paper...he's too perfect, what makes him human?”

“That's fair,” Dave said, sauntering into the room ten minutes late for the meeting and clearly not at all concerned with it. “That's why I'm flying to Seattle tonight to spend a few days with him. His department just got an interesting case, I'd like to see him work. My flight leaves in two hours.”

“But you're already convinced he's the one,” Max pointed out, narrowing his eyes just a little at Dave. 

“I have no doubt,” Dave replied, paying no notice to Max's suspicions.

“Then why fly across the country?”

“Because you're not,” Dave shrugged and Max nodded. He could appreciate that. 

It was overcast in Seattle. Not rainy, it didn't rain all the time despite what everyone said, but the skies were almost always gray. That was the truth. Sunshine was a rare treat. Walking from his hotel room to the FBI Headquarters was brisk, windy, and he noticed that only a select few people (himself included) seemed to carry umbrellas – tourists, he figured, like himself. An umbrella and Italian suede loafers, he was a sight to be seen among the flannel shirts and brightly colored hair of the downtown crowd. 

“Agent Hotchner!” Dave called, breezing into the office and directly to the desk of the agent he was looking for. Aaron looked up and smiled, standing immediately to shake the other man's hand. 

“Agent Rossi, good to see you again,” Aaron said, letting his handshake run a little too long in his excitement. Dave didn't mind, it was nice to see someone with some enthusiasm. He and his team had lost it somewhere along the way.

“So you're the guy trying to steal my best agent?” came a voice from behind Dave, and he turned on his heel to look up into the face of a man with hatchet like features and who stood at least four inches taller than himself. The man looked like a beanpole in a suit with a mean face, but he was smiling. The two shook hands briefly. 

“Hey!” came a voice from a desk nearby. 

“Shut it, Larsen,” said the tall man. “I'm Agent Turner, you can call me Gene if you like. We do first names up here in the northwest. It's an honor to finally meet you. This kid doesn't shut up about you and your team.” 

Aaron shrunk a little, feeling the heat of embarrassment prickle his skin.

“What can I say? He's the best, we want the best.” 

The office was abuzz the rest of the afternoon over a visiting senior agent, everyone wanted a piece of Rossi, and everyone wanted his opinion. Aaron just put his head down and worked on his profile, letting everyone else have their time with Dave, he knew he didn't need to fight for it. Dave was there for him, after all. 

Dinner was downtown, a luxury Aaron almost never allowed himself but Dave insisted. The restaurant was busy and small, with a beautiful menu and prices that made Aaron's hands tremble a little. 

“You've been in Seattle two years,” Dave said, waving over the waiter to order them a bottle of wine and some calamari to start. “You want to leave so soon?”

“To be honest,” Aaron said softly, “I'd love to stay in this area but the opportunity isn't here.” Dave nodded. He could respect Aaron's ambition, even if he didn't share it himself. Aaron had dreams of moving upward and quickly, maybe a little too quickly. Dave was hoping maybe joining the BAU would satisfy him for a while without taking on too much responsibility. 

“How does the wife feel about it?” Dave asked. Aaron shrugged.

“She likes it here, but she misses her family. I think she's worried about the job being too much for me, but she won't say it. She's been talking to her sister a lot about moving home.”

“You don't think it'll be too much?”

“I don't know what I think,” Aaron replied, his voice low as he sipped his wine. When their meals came, silence fell over the table, and Aaron lost himself in thought. Dave lost himself in the food. They didn't talk about work for the rest of the meal, they talked about a novel Dave was writing, Aaron and Haley's vacation to the Oregon Coast, the prospect of a second bottle of wine which they both decided would be a mistake, although a delicious one. They opted for dessert instead. Their conversation was easy, it flowed without having to even work for it. Aaron walked with Dave back to his hotel and then caught the bus back to he and Haley's apartment across town. They owned one car and he always left it at home for Haley, it was easier for him to use public transit, it was faster too. She was in bed when he came in, so he opted to plug in the heated blanket and put on the kettle – his mind was racing at the prospect of turning their lives upside down so soon, and getting lost in a book was just what he needed. Not a new book, a worn thing, like an old friend – without looking, his fingers found it, the softened spine of The Hobbit. Anytime he felt like his life was taking a new turn, a scary big adventure, he turned to Bilbo Baggins to help him navigate the waters. He would sit up half the night losing himself in Middle Earth. Bilbo and the company had been his best friends for most of his life. 

Morning brought with it a pot of coffee, a hot shower and the migraine to end all migraines. It had started setting in while he read the night before, his vision blurring softly around the edges until he finally had to stop when things were sparkling and his face felt hot. He finished his tea, took some tylenol and hoped for the best. When he got migraines, he preferred to sleep on the couch, there was something comforting about it. Haley found him on the couch in the morning and knew, tried to talk him into calling in sick, sure they'd understand but he couldn't, Dave was in town to work with him and he couldn't just call in. They'd never take him in the BAU if he missed the day, but Haley couldn't understand it. Still, she kissed him on the cheek like always and watched him walk out the door looking like death in a gray suit. 

He was early to work, and took advantage of the quiet. His eyes wouldn't focus on the words, the lights were too bright, but at least it was quiet. It wouldn't be long before the noise would set in. 

“Good morning Agent Rossi,” Aaron said, standing when he saw the other man enter the office. Everyone was there now, the place was loud, and he was doing his best not to crumble at his desk. It wasn't the first time he'd worked through a migraine but it was certainly the most stressful, high stakes time. 

“Aaron,” Dave said, smiling. “You look like shit.” Aaron let out a soft laugh, caught off guard by the ease with which Dave operated. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, leading Dave into the briefing room so they could look over a case they'd been working on for a while. “This is the one I'm on right now with my team. A family annihilator – he does it slowly, one at a time. The first family was in the U District, a mother, father and child. Each of them days apart. First the child, then the father, and then the mother. Makes them look like accidents. The next family was down in Renton, same order – children first, then father, then mother. We've got our eyes on the next family now – it's the same guy, but this time he began with the grandfather, the body of the father was found two days ago. We have eyes on the family now. Mother and two boys.”

“Do you have a suspect list?” 

“No, nothing solid,” Aaron admitted, almost ashamed. He noticed that Dave hadn't turned the light on in the briefing room when they'd entered, and while he wasn't going to complain, he was a little irritated at being profiled himself. “He doesn't make sense. There's something we're missing.” 

“You'll get it. I'd like to go talk with the family under surveillance, I overheard Agent Michaels saying he was heading over there to check in with them.”

“Let me get my jacket,” Aaron said, heading for the door. Dave reached out and touched his arm, giving him a knowing look that cut him to his core. 

“You stay here. Drink some water, sit in here where its dark and quiet. Work on your profile...I want to see it fleshed out when I get back.”

“But,” Aaron protested indignantly but Dave shook his head.

“You're no good to me out there if you feel as bad as you look. Get to work on that profile, Agent.” 

Dave regarded the other man for a moment, daring him to make another move, but Aaron sighed and submitted. He didn't have much fight in him.

The family under surveillance were the Kemps, and they lived in a small, impoverished neighborhood near the airport. Most of the area homes were apartment buildings, dotted in between with tiny little houses with peeling paint and overgrown yards. When Dave and Agent Michaels pulled up, they saw the unmarked vehicles, sticking out like a sore thumb. Nice, shiny black vehicles slipped in-between rust buckets and nondescript sedans. 

“They're not exactly hard to spot,” Dave muttered, indicating the surveillance.

“With all due respect, Agent Rossi, this is Seattle...we're doing our best. This city is going to hell in a hand basket and these people are getting the worst of it.” Dave nodded, he understood and apologized for his candor. He wasn't there to make enemies. They got out of their vehicle and approached the door cautiously, noting the children nearby who had stopped their playing to stare at them. Mrs. Kemp opened the door nervously, watched as they flashed their credentials and invited them in. She looked to her sons, two young men – one looked to be in his younger teenage years, all long limbs and features that didn't fit yet, he'd be handsome in a few years once everything caught up. The other son was already handsome but sullen, looked to Dave like he was in his twenties, and he smiled at them and offered them some coffee. 

“Have you...have you found him?” Mrs. Kemp asked, her hands trembling as she seated herself back on her couch. She looked like she'd been sitting there for days now, living in that spot. Dave noted that though she'd just lost her husband and her father in law, she didn't look terribly sad. She and Agent Michaels chatted for a few minutes about local things, how the Mariners were doing and the construction on all of the freeways making it impossible to get from one area of town to another. The younger son chimed in with something about the Seahawks drafting some good talent, which perked Agent Michaels up immensely, and Dave just sat back and watched as the oldest son kept quiet, milling about the room, handing out steaming mugs of coffee. 

“Not into sports?” Dave asked, taking his cup of coffee and sipping it. The older son shook his head and shrugged.

“Buncha crap,” he muttered. “I like music. I play drums in a band.” 

“Any good?” Dave asked, his interest piqued. He loved music. The young man shrugged again.

“Just a garage band. We play house shows sometimes, there's a lot of people that come out but we never make any money...” 

“Keep at it, in a city like this there's a lot of opportunity.” It was only a minute later that Dave felt his hands go numb, his cup crashing to the floor, splashing burning hot coffee against his ankles. He watched as Agent Michaels slumped over on the couch, spilling his coffee in slow motion, and then everything went black. 

Back at Headquarters, Aaron was miserable. He'd shut the door to the briefing room to try and block out the noise, but nothing seemed to be helping. He could barely see, every nerve in his body was on fire, and for the last fifteen minutes the most he could muster was to have his head buried in his arms on the cool table top. The images of the dead families came in flashes behind his closed eyelids, over and over again, he felt so close to something, so close to a realization that he could reach out and touch it. 

Dave and Agent Michaels woke to find themselves chained up in a dirt filled crawlspace basement that smelled like mold and vermin. 

“Michaels?” Dave whispered, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. The other man grunted. 

“What happened?” Michaels asked. Dave couldn't move, his head was on fire, his limbs were useless. 

“The coffee...” Dave muttered softly. “Something in our coffee.” 

Footsteps overhead, muffled voices, light between the cracks in the floorboards. Dave could just barely make it out.

“They're Federal Agents, Danny.”  
“I don't care, I think they knew...”  
“How could they know?”  
“I saw it in the old one's eyes...”  
Dave was a little offended at that, he didn't think he was that much older than Agent Michaels. The cracks in the floorboards seemed to expand, light flooded the dank crawlspace, and in jumped the older of the two boys, Danny. 

“You guys just shoulda left us alone,” he muttered, holding up a crowbar. “Shoulda stayed in your fancy offices downtown pretending to help people.”

“You don't need to do this,” Agent Michaels pleaded and Dave tried to shush him, he knew pleading wasn't going to work. Something flashed in Danny's eyes then, at the sound of the man almost begging, and he grabbed something that looked like a gun from the floor above and held it to Dave's leg. 

“Don't need to do...what? This?” he asked, and there was a sudden intense pain in Dave's thigh. He knew it wasn't a gun, but he couldn't make it out. There was sharp pain and a metal object lodged in his skin – a staple. The man had just used a staple gun on him. Dave bit into his lip and forced himself not to make a sound. “Tough guy huh?” Again, another staple, right next to the first. This time he couldn't stop himself from grunting, but he tried to keep it quiet. Agent Michaels started yelling. 

“Shut him up Danny!” Mrs. Kemp called from above them. “Those cops outside are gonna hear.” Another staple in Dave's leg, and Danny told Agent Michaels that it was just going to get worse if he didn't stop hollering. He stopped finally, and Danny set the staple gun back up on the kitchen floor above him and hefted himself out, sliding the cover back into place. 

“You okay?” Agent Michaels whispered, and Dave just nodded, sucking in deep breaths to try and pass through the pain. If he didn't move his leg, it wasn't so bad, he could almost forget it but the slightest twitch and his skin felt like it would tear clean apart. 

In the briefing room, Aaron had fallen asleep, mercifully. He'd set his alarm and decided that a nap was better than food for his lunch hour. It was in his pain induced dream state that he realized what it was he'd missed – this third family broke the mold because they were the actual targets. The first two families were decoys, that's why there was nothing remarkable about the connections, nothing that helped them draw up a suspect list. It wasn't about them, it was about the Kemps. Specifically the patriarchs. He woke in a cold sweat, realizing that there were two Agents who had just gone into that house, thinking they were visiting victims. He shot up from his seat, head spinning, stomach heaving angrily but he pushed past it and rushed out, grabbing as many Agents as he could for backup. They piled into vehicles and sped with their lights on across town, which wasn't fast because you can't go fast through Seattle but they tried. They parked two blocks away from the house and went the rest of the way on foot. Aaron's vest felt too tight, painfully constricting his chest, he could barely see two feet in front of him and he knew he shouldn't be holding his gun, but here he was. 

“Agent Michaels' car,” one man pointed out, and Aaron glanced over for a moment before rushing up the walkway to the front door. He pounded with his fist, shouting for them to open up the door. A scared looking teenage boy with tear streaked cheeks opened up and Aaron grabbed him by the wrist and flung him out onto the grass.

“Stay,” he commanded, and the boy did what he was told. Aaron knew the boy wasn't who they were after. 

“Danny Kemp, FBI,” Aaron called into the house, stepping over the mess on the floor. He saw the overturned coffee cups, the spilled liquid staining the couch, and Mrs. Kemp cowering in the kitchen. There was an opening in the kitchen floor near her feet, and Aaron and his team approached her with their guns leveled at her. “Where's Danny?”

“Don't hurt him!” she cried, and Aaron just scowled at her. His vision blurred, the room swam before him and he swayed a little on his feet like he might pass out. He put his hand to his forehead for a moment, taking a step backward and waving his team ahead of him. They grabbed the woman and threw the floorboards open, revealing Danny Kemp with guns leveled at Agent Rossi and Michaels. Aaron steadied himself and gulped down the bile that had risen in his throat, approaching the hole carefully. 

“Danny, put down the weapons,” he called, commanding every ounce of power he had left in his body. He stared directly into Danny's eyes, not looking at his two injured Agents beside him. “You don't need to do this anymore. You already got what you wanted.”

“What the hell do you know?” he cried, hands shaking. Dave and Michaels both looked bad, only half awake and bleeding. The way they were laying was wrong, like dolls on the floor.

“I know this was about your father and your grandfather. I know you didn't want to hurt anyone else, you just needed to make sure that you could take care of them. Free your mom and your brother from them. I understand. It's over now.” 

“You don't understand! No one understands! No one ever listens!” Danny cried, but he dropped the guns anyway and curled himself up on the ground, sobbing. Aaron crouched beside the hole. 

“Danny, I understand. I’m sorry no one listened, I’m listening now. My family was a lot like yours...come out of there now and we can help you.” Danny looked up at Aaron and his face was all vulnerability and childish fear, nothing left of the hardened monster who had killed eight people over the course of a few weeks. He extended his hand, let Aaron pull him out and put him in handcuffs without another word. The EMTs made their way in to take care of Dave and Agent Michaels. Aaron didn't feel at all like this case was a victory as he watched the boy and his family, victims of years of torment, hauled away in handcuffs. 

In the hospital, Aaron sat with a glass of water while he worked on a stack of paperwork beside Dave's bed. The room was silent, Dave had been out for hours while the poison worked its way out of his system. His arms and legs were covered in bandage covered stitches, but they were sure he was going to be okay. Aaron, however, was pretty sure he'd be passed up for the BAU after he botched the profile and got two Agents injured. 

“How'd you figure it out?” came Dave's voice, weak and soft through the darkened hospital room. Aaron squinted at him and shrugged. 

“I'd been in that house twice, I should have seen it. The way the boys behaved, the way the mom...it felt like my home growing up. I realized that the last time I talked to Mrs. Kemp, she didn't look sad when I asked about her husband...she looked relieved.” 

“Father and grandfather were both abusive?”

“Not a doubt in my mind. I'm so sorry I didn't see it sooner.” Aaron closed his eyes, losing himself in the ebb and flow of the throbbing behind his eyebrows. 

“I looked through your files. Nothing there indicated abuse. There were no hospital records.” Dave had an idea, he thought he understood, but he needed to hear it. Needed to know that this kid had what it would take to join his team. Sometimes, the way to catch the monsters was to be willing to confront your own, to understand and relate, to put yourself into their shoes in order to catch them. 

“You'll never find hospital records for me either...doesn't mean it didn't happen.” Dave was silent for a moment, the heavy realization falling over him. There was that humanity that Max was asking about, but Dave figured he'd lock this one up tight and keep it to himself. 

“This is the job, kid. You still sure you want to come join us at Quantico? Might be you in this bed next time.”

Aaron nodded quickly, surprised that he even still had a shot. “Absolutely.”

Dave forced a weak smile. “Great, because I already submitted the transfer papers and I would hate to have to take them back. I hate paperwork. There's this request that came in from Boston PD a few days ago, they want a consult and a profile on a potential serial killer...you think you're up to it?”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron replied, nodding. “I'll get right on it.”


End file.
